And no I don’t mean that in the "the whole world is going to end because I can’t live without him, and she backstabbed me, and they want my popularity and my heel snapped and my make up is ruined and I can't find anything to wear and the whole world is going to end just because " sense. *rolls eyes at the excess of melodrama and the fact that some people out there do use this when referring to the phrase ‘everything is falling’*. Oww, eyeball burn (?).

What I really mean is that everything is falling- literally! I think I have one of those accelerated aging hormones :S.

I swear, every time I shower, I shed hair like a dog! It just scares me :(. And every time I see the hair fall shampoo ads, I go and buy the shampoo, to find out its worse than the previous one. *Sigh*. The stupid things I do.

Leaving my sad case of nails aside, but not the topic of nails - I shudder in disgust whenever I see a guy with a long ass pinkie nail, and the rest of his nails are nicely trimmed. It's nasty. 'Cause every time I see that nail, and it’s just that one nail, I imagine it being scratched across a chalkboard. *goosebumps*. Wow, overuse of 'nail' much? Meh.

Anyway. Way too much oversharing. The above is of zero relation to the actual post. So just forget about all that. Yes, yes, the nails, the hair and the hormones.

Below, are my thoughts on a matter that has intrigued me of the late. Hope it makes sense.

Carpe Diem ;)

_________________________________________________________________

We exit, suspended in time and space. We occupy. We breathe.

That's what the human being is.

Yet the human being lives in his mind, not his heart. A mind composed of both the conscious and the subconscious. He lives in his consciousness, where his thoughts and feelings act as a silent guide.

His consciousness and subconcsiousness work together, side by side.

The consciousness in its acute sense of awareness, is where he is most alert.

The subconscious is where the rationality of things pales - a part of the mind yet unknown. It's where his memories recollect.

Together, they form the greatest optical illusion of all time. One that cannot be matched.

An illusion where his desires and realties combat. Where his ignorance sometimes prevails.Where his quest for his personal truth begins and ends. Where his affections arise. Where his morals, or lack of are engrained. Where his dreams float and his goals are formed. Where his ambitions are pursued, and his failures and sucesses are reflected upon. Where his affections grow.

It's his inner security.

It's his greatest prison.

Invisible bars that cage him in, allowing him to retreat in his shell, restricted to his own pleas and cravings. To select and bestow his affection to those 'special' few.

Its where his personal bias resides and nourishes.

****

We all self indulge in our illusions. They make the world a prettier place. But pretty is nothing when compared to the purity of things. To the clarity and correctness which we overlook. A purity shielded by our perception.

To seek true freedom, is not to be legal. Nor to be accepted in society. Nor to be allowed to walk the earth as one pleases. Nor does it lie in being able to say what comes to mind.

No. True freedom lies in the liberation of the mind. It lies in stepping outside of the bars, penetrating the illusion and seeing our suspension in time and space as a whole - a chance to experience one's self with in a system. A system known to us as 'the universe'. A system of which we are a part, but nothing without.

Agreed. Such freedom is asymptotic in its very nature. But we can get very close.

So I was sent to my room, after being scolded for apparently not having any sense of direction, to develop a vision and plan ahead. Nothing is wrong with my vision: wait until my series download, and then watch them. Oh, and make it through Uni alive.As for planning ahead. Well I'll give you planning ahead:1. Now it’s the uni.2. Next its cats, romance novels and cookie dough ice cream. Maybe work.3. And then, guess what? I'm getting married. And I'm doing it on my own terms too. It can't be that hard. I mean, please: If I can live with the cats, I can live with the hubby too. Marriage: When- n/a Where- Preferably on some set in Bollywood ;) How -n/a Who - TBA.=).

This is me making provision for my future:

_________________________________________________________________

Hey Honey aka Hubby!

Wherever you are.

Whoever you might be.

I decided to write you.

Why you ask?

I'm late for everything. Late for applying to uni. Late to uni. Late to the airpor(I'm the person who's name you hear being called out in the speaker asking me to *hurry my ass up and get on the goddman plane*). I'm late growing my wisdom teeth (they haven't showed up yet). I'm late remembering birthdays.

So yeah.

I'm being early for once.

And I'm writing to you.

You know. Just so you're prepared.

And so I have the satisfaction of being early!

Weird, you say.

Mutually beneficial, I reply.

So yes. Hi there honey.

Oh, consider yourself lucky, 'cause 'honey' is all the endearment you're ever going to get from these lips of mine.

"Love" *snorts* - The only person I call love, is when I'm in a meeting with me, myself and I. They're the love.

"Baby" - If I call you that, then what I am going to call the baby we're going to procreate?

"My Other half" - *pfft*. I was born complete. The first half is me. The second half is me. A half and a half, well that makes a whole me =).

"My Soul Mate" - Lucky for you I don't believe in that crap, honey, because well that might mean when I marry you, and you're not my soul mate then I'll be miserable and blame you. And that won't be your cup tea. Hell, it won't even be close to your glass of guava juice.

"Dear" - That's what I plan on calling the baby when she/he grows up.

There, now that's all settled - and no hard feelings honey, all this is for our future happines, whenever that might be - we can get to the details.

Hmm. Yes. The details.

Honey, do me a favor. Go to www.dictionary.com and look up 'marry'. You'll get something like this:

"mar·ry [márree] - transitive verb- to join two people in marriage: to officiate at somebody's marriage ceremony and give legal sanction or a religious blessing to the marriage."

Now read that again honey.

And then make sure you never associate that with the word 'marry'. Ever. 'Cause guess what? This time the dictionary's wrong!

Here's what 'marry' really means and if I were you, I would start memorizing:

"mar·ry [márree] - transitive verb - to share your life with someone, making every single nano-second matter. They become your paparazzi and you in turn become theirs, just no where near as annoying. You don't expect anything out of them that you're not willing to do either. You treat them as your equal, in the full meaning of the word. And never ever give them the bullshit about the men women issue."

Commit that to memory honey.

Oh, and notice how I didn't change the 'transitive verb' part - that's because that's what it is. When and if its over honey, you'll just be another transition to go through. Don't for a second think my life will end with you. Save that idea for the 1000 episode Mexican soaps.

So where was I?

Oh yes- When I marry you, don’t for a second think you can go Macho on my ass. I'll just go all blowtorch on your balls =). I don't have any, but believe me; I can imagine it would kill. De-manned. Impotent for life. So think twice honey before you do something stupid like that. Your balls are on the line.

Speaking of balls honey, when we pro-create, I want you experienced honey, so you can take me high up to the seventh sky.

Oh, and honey try showing those balls of your to anyone else when I marry you, and guess what you'll be. Yup, you got it. A eunuch. Aka castrated human male. And I'll keep ‘em in a jar for you to look at. And when they shrivel up and die, remember that's what happens when you smother a rose in a jar too. And right again honey, I'm the rose and you're the jar. So don't smother me honey, I don't like it. I need my air and space, so don't take ‘em from me.

What's more, you have to get my dry sarcasm honey. Because it's a dry as saw dust right now, and I don't know what state it will be in when I marry you. But one thing's for sure - it'll only get drier :p

Also, honey, you can't tell me what to do, unless you want me telling what you do. That's what kids are for honey. Tell them what to do. I'll tell you a secret honey: they made disobedience and then they made me :P. So, I'll be in charge of what I do. Guide me- sure. Help me out- no problem. Give me your opinion -with arms wide open.

You don't have to love me honey, you just have to get me. Love alone is for fools. You just have to match me stroke for stroke every step of our time together- how ever long that might be - and throw back at me my caustic remarks with corrosive ones of your own. You have to neutralize me honey. That's all I'm asking. If you want to love me too, well I'll consider it a bonus, and you a paragon of generosity. And if that happens, then I'll negotiate with me, myself and I, and I'll try to give you a small corner of my heart. I can't promise you anything but a corner. And even that you'll probably have to work overtime to earn - extra nightshifts; p etc. Maybe you'll slowly work your way up. Who knows honey. Anything is possible. The Jonas Brothers are a hit band, and Hannah Montanna is not just your ordinary cowgirl - or so I'm told. See, I told you anything is possible.

And that little corner of my heart's got no warranty, honey. 'Cause once you damage it, you can't just go back and fix it. Damage it, and the Wrath of Con will be something bearable, by far.

So don't damage it honey. Take good care of it. It's that simple really.

But don't worry honey. This is just an early ultimatum - a life buoy if you must.

How considerate of me, you say.

I know, I reply.

Honey, its common sense. Handle me properly, and I'll give you wings. Fail to do so, and an early retirement to the underworld might not seem like such a bad idea.

He wasn't hot; he was cute. He wasn't well built, he was chubby. He didn't have a rich baritone laugh: he blushed. But he was who he was, and I was who I was, and I liked your friend.I never told him. I don't know if he figured it out. He wasn't my type, nor I his. I was the girl with the glasses and the sharp tongue. And he was the shy lazy boy who didn't care.But I liked him anyway.

It wore away, just like every time.

And then I liked you:

You weren't hot: You were normal.You weren't well built: You were average.You didn't have a rich baritone laugh: you had a devil's guffawBut you were who you were, and I was who I was, and I liked you.I never told you. I don't know if you figured it out.You weren't my type, nor I yours. I was the girl with the glasses and the sharp tongue.And you were the outgoing crazy boy who didn't care.But I liked you anyway.

It wore away, just like every time. But it just took a while to fade.

*****

I sit here today and I conjure up those days:

You enjoyed my company, as much as I enjoyed yours.You talked more, but I spoke more.You laughed more, but I smiled more.You took a lot, and I gave a lot.You tried to give, but I refused to take much.

That imbalance was our downfall.

Yet because of me, you are the person that you are today.And because of you, I am the person that I am today.

*****

I sit here and recall the misplaced humor - when you didn't get my quips and my dry sarcasm, and thus, I ended up explaining them all.

I sit here and remember when I tried to open up, but you failed to understand my line of thoughts.

I sit here and remember when I ignored you because you were no longer adequate.

I sit here and I'm reminded of how we talked about your infatuations with x, y and z - while I inwardly cringed with disappointment.

It's sad. All those years I silently liked you. All those times I tried to figure out if you liked me too - to this day, I'm not sure if you ever did. All those days I sat there and tried to replay and psychoanalyze every one of our moments together. To only see what I wanted to see each time around. All those hours I put aside to fantasize and dream.

Still, at he back of my mind, I knew that you weren't right.

Then , inevitably, you began to grown small - less important, less pleasing, less fun, less fulfilling.

And small you did become. 'Till you wouldn't do anymore. And discarded you were. Insignificant. Ever-fading.

I know you wondered why, and you tried to come back - but I fought you more. And in the end, I got what I wanted.

I once liked you- but the 'you' that I once liked, was one of my own creation.

For that, forgive me, for I have wronged you.

The real 'you' was no more than a victim of my imagination.

*****

I was the girl with the glasses and the sharp tongue. You were the outgoing crazy boy who didn't care. And that imbalance was our downfall.

So far so good; still keeping away from the void! I really do enjoy writing these short pieces. They are, at the end of the day, mostly for me – to find some sort of closure, or to simply come to terms with all the different emotions that surround us – that keep us together, yet singularly apart.

You wrote on my Facebook wall to tell me that you called and texted to say hi.I didn't write back.

You sent me an email to tell me that you called, texted and wrote on my wall to say hi.I didn't reply.

You called again.Still, I didn't pick up.

We both know why.

And just between you and I - let the rest of the world lay silent for a while and turn a blind eye - what you really wanted say is an audible 'hi', and an unspoken 'sorry'.

That pitiful plain 'sorry'.

What do you have to say 'sorry' for?

For trusting me? For all those times you came to me in pieces, and I put you back together? For needing me more than I needed you? For asking me those questions you couldn't answer alone? For giving you the answers you didn't want to, but had to hear? For pressing your brakes when you lost control? For listening when you wanted to speak? For the company of two, rather than the lonesomeness of one? For our endless adventures? For our philosophical roundabouts? For our vivacious laughter? For your understanding?

Why would you be ‘sorry’?

For pretending I didn't exist for a while? For not asking me what happened? For siding against me? For your greed for attention? For my pride and stubbornness? For my distance? For never confronting me? For my indifference at times? For my momentary naiveté? For never taking the time to understand? For never asking me to explain? For running away at the slightest sign of a storm? For being selfish in your own delight to mourn my loss? For being equals?

No, you don’t have anything to be ‘sorry’ about. Not at all.

You made a choice. And I made another. Then they collided, and you chose you over me. You chose your own happiness over my amity.It was easier for you to turn a blind eye than care about what you left behind.Ignorance was ever better than reality. And it always will be. All of a sudden, I simply didn't matter.And you turned to them, and I became nothing more than a figment of your past.What's one person as opposed to many? - 'Nothing' you seem to have decided.One small betrayal. It would cost nothing at all.

You have nothing to be ‘sorry’ for.Give your 'sorry' to those much in need of it.I don't. I never did.

If anything, I deserve this. Because deep inside, I made the greatest betrayal of all. I betrayed myself and let you in. I gave you a value that surpassed who you really are. I saw in you an illusionary real.

I let you see behind my broken smile. Little as that might be.

But unlike your precedents - you gave me the greatest gift of all.Because now I know- That I'll never have anyone but me; That I'll never love anyone but me;That I'll never hate anyone but me;That I'll never make it without me.

No, you have nothing to be 'sorry' for.

*****

I reminisced the minute you called.I forgave you the minute you texted.I forgot you the minute you wrote on my wall.I buried you the minute you emailed.And by the time you called again, you ceased to exist.

Because by then – you were just another corpse in my cemetery of mistakes.

Yes. I've emerged out of the void. About time too. Really. This idea kind of unwound itself as my fingers clashed with the keyboard and hungrily ravished it. And through some strangely coiled process it is what it is now. Whether you'll like it or not, well that's really out of my hands and for you to tell me ;p.,

I hope you do enjoy and can relate in your own private spheres and/or planes.

Till next time ;)__________________________________________________________________________________________

An elongated sigh escaped me. Trapped in my room, it bounced from wall to wall. And came right back at me. I stared at it with a 'meet your maker' glare, and created its sister: an even longer sigh (if such is possible, since sigh #1 was really long!)

The moment was followed by one of counterfeit silence - seeing as I somehow couldn't exclude the AC drumming, the clock ticking and the something expanding and contracting. Oh right, the expanding and contracting would be me. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale - you know, the elementary motions of life amongst other things.

Suddenly I get the feeling that I'm a jar, and someone just accidentally on purpose knocked me off the shelf, and all my contents came pouring. What happened to the jar you ask? I'll tell you: its plastic, not glass. Hence it survived. No splintering, no brittle peices, and evidently no replacing. If anything, I take my necessary precautions.

Rule: Try to never smash into smithereens.

It's right up there with breathing. Notice, the keyword being 'try', because if you've been overruled by Judge Life, then you are officially screwed sideways.

A friend of mine once told me to embrace everything. The converstation went somewhere along these lines:

Me: Uff!Friend: Just embrace all.Me: Even if it screws you sideways?Friend: Look on the bright side, you could be screwed diagonally. Hence, embrace.Me: Ooo.Friend. Yeah.

And you can sort of imagine the rest.

Embrace, my ass.

I'll sit here and sigh like the insomniac that I've now become.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Suddenly my clock comes into the foregroud accidentally on purpose. How those SOBs manage to do that is beyond me.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

I glare at it, and for a second consider having a staring contest. Hell, I didn't consider, I went ahead and did it anyway.

1:19 A.M.

And I saw it. Clear and lucid.

I saw how I was alien to the crowds.I saw how I excluded my own self in this self preserving way.I saw how I built a batman armor around myself.I saw how I breathed in nonchalence till I was a vaccum inside.I saw the truth turning into an illusion.I saw how I narrowly catergorized and scrutinized.I saw how I pushed second chances aside and refused to believe in them.I saw the longing for me to speak and not just talk.I saw my barriers become more solid and no one approach them.I saw how I craved contact with a personality pulsating with energy and complexity.I saw how I pushed everything away.I saw how I kept my distance farway so I could easily flee.I saw how I moved on.I saw how it all became hazy.I saw them become what they became and yet to me I stayed the same.I saw when I stopped believing in light and embraced the grey's of life.I saw the little trust I had in anything and anyone.I saw the doubt that clouded me.I saw the endless inner conflicts: To do or not to do?I saw my failed attempts.I saw my numerous joys.I saw my hearfelt successes.I saw my regrets.I saw my ego trips.I saw the finite circle of reality, and the light wave of fantasy.I saw the innocence leaving me and coming back to hover at the surface.I saw my naive inner child.I saw my wiser cynical self.I saw them clash and battle.I saw how I became my own enemy.I saw how I became my own hero.

I saw me and all my imperfections.

And I realized that this is my package. This is who I am. I am no jar. I am a bar of soap. A carved and weathered bar of soap - a direct result of time.

Suddenly I was tired. And total silence welcomed me into its home .

My eyes closed through a will of their own. They burned. I felt the tear glide, and my cheeks became a water slide.

I am imperfection incarnate. And I of that I'm proud.

I take a peek. Damn!

1:19 A.M.Looks like the clock won again - even if accidentally on purpose.

And just like that, sleep came over me. And for that while, I succumbed to the realm of the dead, at peace with myself.